“God, I should’ve stayed with her.” I finally sit down in one of the chairs at the small conference table, with my elbows braced on my knees, hands clasped, head bowed. “If I’d stayed a little while longer, maybe I could’ve helped her. Maybe I could’ve talked her into calling the rehab facility.”
Hart speaks. “Mr. Walsh, one of the drugs we found in her apartment tested positive for Fentanyl. It’s very strong. We found evidence she likely took some shortly after you left. Probably during or after she sent you those texts. We have to wait for toxicology reports, but it’s my experience that it will likely be what killed her.”
“Dammit.”
“Any idea where she bought her drugs?”
I shake my head. “No. I work for the vice president. Even if I wanted to do drugs, I can’t afford that kind of liability in my life. He’s already told me that if he wins the election, I’m going to be his body man. He’s not just my boss—he’s my best friend. Idamnsure wouldn’t expose him to something like that.”
I take a deep breath and sit back, looking up at them. “Can I tell the vice president about…” I choke back my emotion. “Can I let him know what’s going on? He’s known her for years. I wouldn’t call them best friends, certainly, but she is his sister’s best friend.” I wince. “Shewasher best friend. Dammit.”
Hart nods. “Yes, it’s all right to inform him, but please don’t spread the information until we release it to the media.”
I blow out a breath. “Look, I understand if you can’t, but is there any way to keep my name and Leo’s out of this? I don’t want to be a distraction to the campaign. Leo didn’t even know I was talking to Grace. I was trying to keep everything compartmentalized.”
The detectives exchange a glance and Burbeck speaks. “As long as all your info checks out—and based on what we’re seeing so far, I expect it will all check out—then yes, we’ll keep your names out of this. You might be asked to testify if there’s an inquest, depending on the final autopsy report, but you are obviously not a direct witness to her death, or present when it happened.”
My relief is genuine. “Thank you.”
“Do you have Stella Woodley’s information handy?” Hart asks. Of course I give them everything I have.
By the time the detectives leave the White House thirty minutes later, they’ve talked to Leo to confirm I stopped by his apartment last night. They also asked to see his apartment alarm log, which he shows them on his phone before e-mailing them a copy.
It’s also obvious they believe their eyes and the evidence as presented—a woman with a history of substance abuse rolled the dice one too many times and lost. I am a well-respected young, gay white man who has high security clearance, and who has Secret Service vouching that there is nothing in my history which would implicate me in any kind of illegal activity. I’ve never even had a parking ticket. Literally. My only contact with law enforcement of any kind has been TSA screenings when I fly, and filling out my security clearance paperwork.
The detectives will be contacting us again to come in and sign statements, but it looks like my disguise was more than adequate this time.
I looked innocent.
Fucked-up survival skills for the win, I suppose.
Leo pulls me into the Cabinet Room, where it’s currently empty, and gives me “the eye.”
I can’t do this with him right now. I keep my voice low. “Can we talk about this later,please? Andnotin front of the boy?”
From his scowl, it’s obvious he’s torn between wanting to hug me and wanting to spank me, but he finally nods. “Yeah. Anything else I need to know?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir,” I whisper.
Fuck, I hate lying to him, but it’s technicallynota lie.
Heabsolutelydoesnotneed to know about last night.
I step into Elliot’s office once his briefing ends and lock us in.
Dammit, he’s totally tuned in to my moods, because he frowns when he looks up. “What’s wrong, Sir?”
I hold up a hand, staying him, keeping him in his chair. “Mister Vice President, I have some bad news.” And I break it to him.
Stunned shock fills his expression as he leans back in his chair. “Holy shit. Does Stella know yet?”
“I don’t know. I just finished talking to DCMP detectives a few minutes ago.” I take a deep breath. “And…we need to talk. Because the rest of this might come out.” He frowns as I tell him exactly the story I just told the detectives and Stephen Lyman.
I hate that a mask drops across his features, one I can’t read. Deep lines furrow his brow and he clasps his hands together in his lap as he stares down at them. “So, whywereyou going to see her all those times?” I also hate the quiet pain in his question. Leo warned me that Elliot is very territorial.
NowSir can take over. I round his desk and cup his face in my hands, dropping my voice. “I knew she was trying to get close to you. I needed to find out what shereallywanted. I was hoping she’d give away who some of her other ‘friends’ were so I could weed them out of having too much contact with you during the campaign and after the election. She was deep into The Family. So’s Stella. I need to protect you from that group.”
He stares up at me. He’s wearing his contacts today, and his blue eyes look dark, maybe even a hint of feeling betrayed in them. “You never did anything with her?”
